


my hourglass is in your hands (you've got my time, you are my plans)

by penrosequartz



Series: gods and assholes [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (kind of), Assassins, Avans, Crushes, Dates, Fake Character Death, Gen, Gods, M/M, Masks, Part Bird, Vampires, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penrosequartz/pseuds/penrosequartz
Summary: josh thinks he might die if he doesn't see muninn's face, at least once.





	my hourglass is in your hands (you've got my time, you are my plans)

**Author's Note:**

> part of a bigger story that i might add more to on here if the situation arises, please enjoy!

Josh is desperately grasping for any excuse at this point. He wants to know what's under Muninn’s mask so badly that his heart starts to hammer whenever the avan comes near him. He tells himself that's it's just _natural human curiosity, that's all,_ but he’s lying to himself. Even worse, he _knows_ that he’s denying certain things, and he's not trying to stop it.

He wants to see Muninn’s face. The two trade jokes and when Muninn laughs under his mask it's the most beautiful sound, almost musical. Like birdsong, he thinks, and snickers.

“What’s so funny?” Odin snaps over his morning tea and oatmeal, and Josh scowls.

“Nothing you'd understand, old man,” Josh smirks at the shapeshifter when he rolls his eyes, and Josh misses Sam _so much_ in that moment that it physically hurts. Odin must notice the change on his face, because his sarcastic and cold demeanour lifts a little, and Josh sees the concern underneath, like something hidden peeking out from its hiding place.

“What?” Odin asks, almost suspiciously, “Do you need more-”

“Don't say it,” Josh groans, “Please, come on.”

“There's no shame in needing more blood, Josh,” Odin finishes his tea and stands just as Josh sits, the vampire - _haemo_ **_whatever -_ ** cringing as he hears the word.

“No,” Josh hardens his face, staring determinedly at his toast, “I don't- I miss my friend, okay? I had somebody before I got dragged into this. And now she doesn't know where I am or-”

“She thinks you're six feet under,” Odin interjects, completely calm, scrubbing the dishes.

Josh feels his insides go cold. The dread and doubt that creeps in is something he used to feel all the time, whenever his dad would ask him about something in his monotone kind of voice, but he hasn't felt it in a while and it's a bit of a shock.

“What?” Josh asks, something rising in his throat and if he even _thinks_ about breakfast now he'll definitely throw up.

“Everyone in this town thinks you're dead,” Odin explains casually, as if what he’s saying isn't giving Josh a minor aneurysm.

“Everyone- what? What did you _do?”_ Josh asks, and something is definitely clawing its way up his throat, and he's _pleading._

Odin looks almost shocked when he turns to find Josh with tears in his eyes.

“I thought you appreciate it,” Odin treads carefully, the old fool, with no idea of how humans work because he's only even been around the seriously weird or seriously dodgy ones.

 

* * *

 

If it's true, what Muninn is telling him, that means Muninn’s face has never seen sun.

Josh has admired Muninn’s (and Huginn’s) hands on occasion, and it's not like you can never see any of their skin - they're just particularly sensitive to light, according to Odin. But Josh… Josh doesn't buy it, for some reason. The way Odin says it makes it sound like he's hiding something.

“You're not _allowed_ to take it off? Haven't you ever-” Josh tries to ask, but Muninn lifts a hand to silence him.

“No,” the avan sighs, “I’m bound to Odin in a contract that doesn't expire until we do. Whatever he tells me to do, I’ll obey.”

“What's the difference between us? Like, physically?” Josh asks, before wondering if it's maybe a little racist, or speciesist, or whatever.

“I’m sensitive to light, and, well. You know,” Muninn shrugs in the huge coat that hangs off him, “These.”

And suddenly Josh _gets it,_ and how did he not _notice this before?_

“You- dude,” Josh stares at Muninn, open-mouthed, “You have _wings?”_

Muninn snickers, “Obviously.”

And that, right there, day _made._

“What if I take you out at night?” Josh tries to bite back the words as soon as they leave his mouth, because that sounds a little too weird.

“Take me out,” Muninn says flatly.

“Look, just- into the city. Pizza. Soda,” Josh himself is shocked by how desperate he sounds, and part of him is still trying to deny that he's having anything more than platonic feelings for the half-bird dude sitting in front of him.

“So I can show you my wings, is that-?” Muninn doesn't finish the question, but Josh feels the anxiety radiating off the avan, he can _smell_ it.

“Not if you don't want to,” Josh finds that he's rubbing at his palms and fidgeting with his fingers, digging his nails into himself, “Dinner. Found a fifty in my shoe, so. Y’know.”

They're still awkwardly standing in the kitchen, and Muninn’s steel-capped boot is tapping against the wood floor and it's driving Josh _insane,_ and he really doesn't know why he said that thing about the money. _Bird boy_ probably doesn't even know what a fifty is. But Muninn regards him silently before nodding.

“Okay,” the avan says in his muffled tone, “Date night with the new kid.”

Josh goes red, and Muninn laughs and goes to find his… friend? Brother? Sibling? Josh doesn't know if Huginn actually has a gender at all. Oh, maybe _neither_ of them are even guys? No, Josh is sure he heard Muninn refer to himself as male.

Right?

Oh, Christ.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, there's no one around,” Josh encourages the avan, and it's probably a bad thing, but he leans towards Muninn and nudges him a little.

The avan makes an annoyed little sound, and Josh immediately returns to his original position. Even with his new vampiric strength, Muninn could snap him in half - Josh won't lie, it's pretty cool. And kind of hot. He feels safer knowing that no one can get away with mugging them in the middle of the night.

Josh nearly jumps for joy when Muninn, sitting by the river and lit by the moon, quietly murmurs, “Fine.”

Both their bellies are full of pizza, and Josh is still slurping at his jumbo-cherry-cola-soda. Muninn’s lemonade sits next to the avan, untouched. Ah, well - the night is still young. Josh will convince him of the delicacies of the late-night city market yet.

The huge fur coat - ridiculous for such a hot night - slides off Muninn’s back, and really, the coat isn't even thick at _all,_ it's just there to cover the absolutely _enormous_ mass of Muninn’s wings.

“Holy mother,” Josh breathes, “Can I?”

Muninn nods somewhat reluctantly, and makes an amused snort when Josh carefully strokes a feather.

“They're not _that_ delicate, I can handle a-” Muninn cuts himself off with a strangled noise as Josh places his hand on a wing, “Christ.”

“Sorry!” Josh gasps, “Did that hurt?”

“Uh,” Muninn seems to freeze, “No, I just… didn't realise how long it had been since I’d stretched them out.”

“It must suck to keep them in all the time,” Josh muses, resolutely keeping his hands to himself, although Muninn’s sleek black wings are absolutely incredible. Muninn crosses his arms.

“How do they fit under that cloak?” Josh asks absentmindedly.

“Bigger on the inside,” Muninn replies, completely unironically, and Josh laughs. Josh can feel Muninn’s eyes on him, and he feels nervous all of a sudden.

“Nothing had would happen if you took it off,” Josh tries to appear casual, but there's an edge to his voice. He needs to see Muninn’s face, or he genuinely thinks he might die.

And the avan appears to consider, even though he's defying Odin, and he reaches for the clip-

“I can't,” And Muninn drops his twitching hands to his lap.

And Josh decides that now is the time, now is his chance, even though he doesn't really know what to say. He just needs to convince him.

“Please,” Josh begins, and before the avan can interrupt, he continues, choking the words out, “I- _please,_ man, I’m dying here. I've only known you for a few weeks but this has got to constitute torture somehow.”

“Surely you can survive without seeing my face,” Josh can feel Muninn’s eye roll.

“I know I’m not a very attractive person,” Josh manages to get out, and wow, when did this become Josh Hates Himself, new podcast, online now, “But everything about you is amazing. You're just- you're great. And I don't have a face to match to that.”

“You just want something to jerk off to, right?” Muninn laughs, and Josh laughs too, even though that… may be partially true.

But flattery seems to work, and Muninn reaches up and undoes the clasp. The mask is still sitting on his face, and the fear that Josh could smell earlier, with his heightened senses, is back - stronger, sour, intense.

“I- I don't remember the last time I saw my own face. I don't know if I’ve ever…” Muninn groans, “What if it’s terrible?”

“It won't be,” Josh says confidently, although never seeing your own face sounds kind of messed up, “Trust me, it won't be.”

And it's not.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make my day (ps it's called a haemocomeden, btw)


End file.
